


Dirty Little Secrets

by Kookaburra



Category: Transformers, Transformers (Bayverse)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kookaburra/pseuds/Kookaburra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation between Judy Witwicky and Bumblebee leads to a deeper understanding between Sam's two protectors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Judy Witwicky stared at the ceiling. Normally, the patterns made there by the streetlight shining through the leaves of the trees coalesced into soothing shapes as she drifted off to sleep: a rabbit's ears, a bird, or flower petals.

Up until recently the patterns would give her comfort and peace, but now all she could make out of them were the sharp cruel visages of mechanical monsters, hell bent on destroying her and her family...to kill her son-her baby. Judy knew she should have taken an _Ambien_ earlier; now it was too late to take a pill if she wanted to get anything done tomorrow.

After being taken into custody by those obnoxious men in black suits, she and Ron had been escorted to a military base in the desert. Sam and Mikaela had been waiting for them there, along with a large red and blue Peterbilt that had introduced himself as Optimus Prime. She and Ron sat in stunned silence as the truck unfolded into a _very_ large, inconceivably complex robot. They were then briefed on the events at Mission City, about an alien war that was coming to Earth, as well as the abundant dangers Sam could be potentially exposed to once his part in Megatron's ultimate destruction became known to those other machines, those…those Decepticons. Judy had to stifle a giggle. She knew that the robots did their best to translate their language – which sounded like so much static to human ears – into English, but the names they chose sounded similar to something out of a cheesy old TV show, not appropriately regal designations for an extremely ancient and advanced race.

Ron snorted in his sleep and rolled over. Judy immediately stilled herself, not wanting to rouse him. She was aware of how hard he was taking their safe, comfortable, suburban life being flipped over onto its head, and made a valiant and conscious effort to fool all outwardly appearances. When one Captain William Lennox, a handsome young man who was ostensibly the _official_ liaison to the Autobots, was attempting to carefully and delicately explain the situation and further reinforce how necessary it would be to keep Sam safe from any and all possible retaliation, Judy could not help but notice Ron spinning his wedding band around his ring finger absently with his thumb; a clear warning to all who knew him well enough that he was about to lose his temper. So, she had done what she always did- she acted slightly hysterical. Judy had found that the act of trying to calm her down always seemed to distract Ron from whatever he was about to start shouting about. She was well aware that it gave her an enduring reputation of being high strung, but it kept Ron calm.

Suddenly, she noticed a blue flicker on the opposite wall across the room. The robot that was assigned to guard Sam and his family, Bumblebee, often scanned the house during the night. Judy was sure that Sam wasn't aware of the scans, but she was. As the blue grid swept silently across the room, Judy came to a decision; it looked as though she wasn't the only one who was having trouble sleeping. _Or whatever it is that robots do_.

Rising quietly, she grabbed her bathrobe and slipped out of the bedroom. She padded silently down the stairs, skipping the fifth one as it made the floor joist under the master bedroom creak (and honestly, Sam was a smart boy, how could he not figure out that was how she and Ron caught him whenever he tried to sneak in after curfew?) Pausing by the front door she put on her moccasins, and stepped outside.

The bright yellow Camaro that wasn't really a Camaro gleamed in the moonlight. She knew Bumblebee had to be aware of her presence, even though he looked as inert as a rock. The only times she had ever really had a conversation with him was when Sam was present. If they were taking her on an errand, Bumblebee always drove much more slowly than she knew he and Sam normally drove, and was always unerringly polite. He insisted on addressing her as "Mrs. Witwicky" no matter how many times she told him he could call her by her first name if he wished. Even though their conversations had always been pleasant, she was a bit hesitant about approaching him alone, but she needed someone, anyone to talk to tonight.

"Mrs. Witwicky? Is everything alright? Is something the matter with Sam?" The soft voice, overlaid with odd buzzing tones that belied its origin as not-human came from the car.  
"Oh, Sam's fine, Bumblebee. He's sleeping." She stammered. "I, ah, I actually came out to talk to you. I couldn't sleep." Now that she was out here, she found herself tongue tied. What had she actually expected to talk about with a car that was really an alien robot?  
"I've detected that you are often awake at this time. Is this normal for human females? I assumed it was."

"Oh, No, no. Only when…only for human females who are very worried about their families."  
A soft descending tone was Bumblebee's reply – it was a very good approximation of a human noise of sympathy. Then he did something that was completely unexpected. There was a quiet _click_ and the driver's side door popped open slightly. It was a clear invitation and she only hesitated a moment before taking it. She slid in to the soft leather seat, and felt it immediately start to adjust to her slightly shorter frame.

"You're worried about Sam." It was a statement, and the mechanical voice seemed to come from everywhere, instead of the speakers like one would expect. "I won't lie to you, Mrs. Witwicky – Sam is in danger. But please remember – he is a hero to the Autobots, and we will protect him with our shells and sparks. We have fought the Enemy before, and we are prepared to do so again."

"I know that," Judy sighed. "I mean, my head knows that, but then my head also knows that you almost didn't win at Mission City."

There was a brief _whirr_ deep within Bumblebee's chassis, like a fan had been momentarily switched on. "I wish there was some way I could reassure you." Bumblebee answered. "But danger will likely come to your planet soon. Because of his brave actions in Mission City, Sam will likely be asked to perform many others in the future. Sam has an exciting path ahead of him, and I know that he wants to please you and Mr. Witwicky. Your pride in him means so much to Sam."

"I am very proud of him, I'm more proud than I can say. From what I was told about the battle, he acted so bravely. I'm just so worried about my baby." Judy's voice broke and a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. Oh _hell_. She did not come down here just to get all weepy. She brushed the tear away angrily. "I know that Sam thinks I'm ridiculously overprotective, and maybe I am, but I just can't face losing _another_ son." She clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized that she had let out more than she had intended.

"Another son? But Sam told me he was an only child. Please clarify what you mean." Bumblebee's tone was one of puzzlement and curiosity. _Double hell_. The Camaro's soft spoken ways and quiet, encouraging tone made her want to unburden all of her secrets and fears on him. From what she gathered in conversations with Sam, his role in the Robot military was as an intelligence agent and spy. Perhaps that was why she found thing slipping out unintentionally – things that she didn't even talk about with Ron.

"Sam doesn't know. Ron and I never talk about it, and I did not mean to bring it up. Please forget I said that." Judy drew a shuddering breath and pulled herself as upright as she could in the deep leather seat. "I really need to go back to bed." She put her hand on the door handle when suddenly the locks clicked down. "Hey!" She exclaimed. "What is the big idea young man? Open this door right now!" She tried jiggling the handle but to no avail. It was locked tight.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Witwicky. Please don't be angry." Bumblebee said. "But my orders are to protect the wellbeing of Sam _and_ his family. I would be remiss in my duty if I didn't at least try to understand why you are so worried and remove the causes. I would also hazard that your shortened recharge cycles are affecting your operational capacity." Judy sighed. She had been feeling more run down that usual, and unless she was very much mistaken, she was coming down with a summer cold. "You wouldn't understand." She huffed. "How could you? Do you _robots_ even have family? Do you have children to lose?"

There was a long silence. Judy spent it fuming to herself. She was a bit ticked off at Bumblebee's patronizing tone and actions, but mostly she was angry at herself for how worked up she was becoming.

"You are correct, we do not have biological ties among my kind," Bumblebee began. "Our closest analog to your species' concept of 'family' would be our teams. In that sense, Prime is the leader of my family. And while I know that humans place a great deal of value on blood ties, my family is held together by friendships that have formed over millions of your years."

"Oh, I – I didn't realize…"

"Also, like you," Bumblebee continued on, more hesitantly, "there are things I haven't told Sam yet." His voice took on a distinctively mournful tone and trailed off. Then, before Judy could respond the radio kicked on. The song sounded like something Sam would listen to – all harsh guitars and the singer whining into the microphone. Judy was grateful that Bumblebee was playing it very quietly or it would have woken someone up for certain.

_'Dirty little secrets we all hide/Cause we all have a darker side/A place we keep where no one else will find/Cause everybody wants to hide their secrets away/Nobody wants to stand up to the pain/But I will'_

"Before I joined Optimus' team, I was the leader of my own team. We had been together for a very long time, even by Cybertronian standards. I was closer to them than I am with my new family. As leader, it was my duty to be first into any battle, and bring up the rear on any retreat. It was in my spark and my programming to protect them at all costs. But then we ended up in a situation in a battle where I had no choice but to lead them on a suicide mission. I did everything in my power to keep them from being destroyed, but I was unsuccessful. I know in my core processor that the sacrifice they made ensured the mission's success, and would save many more lives in the future. But that doesn't make it any easier to live with."

"I'm- I'm very sorry Bumblebee," said Judy, touched and humbled by the depth of emotion she could sense in his voice. "I had no idea."

"I don't often talk about them. Prime was always willing to listen when I wanted to, but I think hearing about an entire team being destroyed made the others uneasy. They would always change the subject if it came up."

"Maybe they were trying to spare you the pain of remembering?" said Judy quietly.

"Perhaps. But not remembering is more painful, in my opinion. When one doesn't remember someone, it's as if you are ashamed of the fact of their existence. I could never be ashamed of my previous family. I never want to forget them; even though some of the memories are painful."

"I suppose you have a point…" Judy said in a small voice. It had been so long since she had examined _that_ part of her life. But almost losing Sam had brought the raw emotions to the surface again. She and Ron had never really grieved; she hadn't dealt with the emotions when …it…had first happened. Was time to do so now?

_'Just hold on and remember if you need you've got a friend/someone to share your secrets not your lies'_ crooned out of the radio. Judy gave a short, dry laugh.

"I've dealt with Sam's wheedling for sixteen years, Bumblebee. You'll have to come up with something better than that."

"Then how about we're just two insignificant beings in a very large universe, who both need to remember for the people who can't?" _Damn, he's good_ Judy thought. _If we sent him to talk to the Gambinos he'd probably find out where Jimmy Hoffa's body is in ten minutes._

Judy sat in silence. Everything in her yearned to unburden herself to her unlikely confidant, but she couldn't bring herself to form the words at first. Finally she took a deep breath and began her story. Once the first words were out, she couldn't stop them, even if she had wanted to. They poured from her like poison from a wound.

"You're right. Sam thinks he's an only child, but he wasn't. There was another- he had a twin." She drew a long, shuddering breath. "They were both beautiful baby boys. But there was something wrong with Archie. His brain wasn't fully developed, and he had to go on life support immediately." Now tears fell freely, and nothing she could do would stop them. She fished a tissue out of her bathrobe pocket and dabbed at her eyes before continuing. "When I was able to be up and about, I was never able to hold both of my babies at the same time – I had to visit Sam in the healthy baby ward, and then Archie in the neonatal ICU. I could only stroke his elbow, because they had hooked him up to so many machines. Finally the doctors said that there was no chance for little Archie to ever survive on his own. Ron and I talked it through, well he talked it through at me, and decided that the best thing to do would be to unhook the life support machines and… let what would happen, happen." Judy fell silent, her shoulders shaking in grief. "I finally got to hold my first born; he lived for a few minutes after they took him off of life support. I got to hold him when he died. I don't want to have to hold Sam while he dies!" Her voice trailed away in wracking sobs.

"I am sorry that you had to make that decision, Mrs. Witwicky." It didn't seem possible, but Bumblebee's voice was even softer, and warmer than it had been before. A wave of warmth moved up the back of the car's seat, feeling like a caring caress.

"Thank you, Bumblebee. I know, logically, that we did the right thing. Archie's brain was undeveloped, and he would never have had any higher brain functions or been able to leave the hospital. I keep telling myself that, but I still feel terrible. And I know that having to go through that again with Sam would break me. I love him so much." This time all that answered was a soft trill, as Bumblebee let her cry herself out.

After awhile, she reached the place where she simply couldn't cry any more, it was a strange state of peacefulness. Her face was pressed against the window, and its coolness made her hyper-aware of how hot her cheeks were. How long had she been out here? The sky was still dark, no sign of dawn yet. A quick glance at her watch told her that she had only been out here for about ten minutes, but it seemed longer.

Bumblebee apparently could sense that she was mostly done. "Why haven't you told Sam about your other child?" he asked. "For Cybertronians, to be a twin with one half of the spark extinguished would be agony, yet he is happy and healthy."

Judy laughed quietly as she blew her nose. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bumblebee. What are sparks?"

Bumblebee, well, _chuckled_ was the only word that fit. It was a series of warm hums that sent subtle tremors through the entire car. "I apologize, Mrs. Witwicky. I forgot that you have not been lectured at by Ratchet about Cybertronian schematics and functioning like Sam and Mikaela have. It is not important, and I can always ask Sam later."

"No!" Judy almost shouted. "Please don't tell Sam. I- I don't know what his reaction would be if he found out that I let his brother die!"

"Please know that I would never betray your trust." Bumblebee said hurriedly. "I'm sorry I gave that impression, I simply meant that I would find out more about the nature of human twins from Sam. I would not tell him what prompted the curiosity."

"Oh. Well. I'm sorry I over reacted."

"However," Bumblebee continued, "I do think that you should tell him. He doesn't always understand why you put the restrictions on him that you do-"

"Oh, that reminds me-" Judy interrupted "I've been meaning to thank you for getting him home on time. He hasn't missed his curfew in weeks." There was another of those strange, yet comforting chuckles.

"-and I think that sitting him down and explaining this to him will make him more willing to follow the guidelines you have set in place for his behavior."

Judy sighed. "I'll think about it. It's just something that Ron and I never, ever talked about again. And I guess that's what really makes me feel so guilty – it's as if Archie never existed. But he did. He was my son, and I loved him." She and Bumblebee sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Judy actually found herself almost nodding off.

"I do not know if I should tell you this," Bumblebee said, startling Judy out of her daze, "but Sam and I have had similar conversations. He loves you very much, and one of his worst fears is that the Decepticons will come after you and your family."

"Really?" Judy asked.

"Yes- he's even come down here after having nightmares about it."

Judy let out a short laugh. "I didn't realize your job description included family shrink, Bumblebee. Just let me know if Mojo ever bares his soul to you." She stroked the dash, wondering if he could feel it. Belatedly she realized that it might be presumptuous to do so, but the action was soothing to her. "Thank you for listening to me, and for being…well, being you." This time the reaction was a full blown laugh. Still very alien and mechanical, but the feeling behind it was clear as a bell.

"What else could I be, Mrs. Witwicky?" The door unlocked and clicked open again, and Judy stepped out into the cool night air, feeling more peaceful than she had in a long, long time. "And I give you my word; I will protect Sam as if we were spark-siblings. I wish I could give you more assurance, but these _are_ uncertain times."

Judy rested her hand upon Bumblebee's hood, feeling the odd warmth that radiated from him that no ordinary car would have. "Thank you, Bumblebee." She whispered as she walked away and back up the driveway to the house.

Bumblebee's quiet, "You're welcome…Judy." followed her.


	2. Coda

Sam stared out Bumblebee's window at the passing scenery as Bumblebee zoomed north up Highway 101. The large windmill and wattle-and-daub style architecture told him they must have reached Solvang. That was one disadvantage of having a car that drove itself - he tended to glance over road signs now without paying attention to what they were saying. Maybe he should insist on driving his mother's car once a week, to keep in practice.

"We should be arriving in about an hour, Sam," Bumblebee said, startling him out of his musing.

"How are you doing? Would you like to stop?"

"I'm fine 'Bee. Let's stop in Los Olivos, though. It's smaller, and stuff is cheaper there. Solvang's a tourist trap." Sam shifted in his seat, resting his head against the window. He felt… unsettled. Just a week before, after a particularly nasty argument with his mother over Mikaela teaching him to ride her scooter, both of his parents had come into his room with unusually solemn looking faces. At first Sam had been terrified that they would insist he stop seeing Mikaela, or forbid him from visiting Captain Lennox's team and the Autobots at the base. In hindsight, his fears about both were ridiculous: his mother absolutely loved Mikaela, and both his parents had said before that if Sam wasn't safe surrounded by the best technology the U.S. Military could buy along with four large robots, he wasn't safe anywhere.

Instead, they had told him about his brother. His brother that he never knew existed. Sam supposed he should have felt _some_ emotion – sorrow maybe, or guilt. But instead all he could feel was relief. He knew that being an only child had enabled his parents to provide more privileges and opportunities than they would have been able to had they been providing for two children. And that lack of emotion made him feel terrible. But was feeling terrible really a lack of emotion? He had wrestled with this thought for awhile, before finally deciding that he should do something about it. And that was what led to this road trip.

"A penny for your thoughts." said Bumblebee.

Sam laughed. "Where did you pick up that one, 'Bee?"

"I've been working on my idioms and expressions," answered Bumblebee. "After all, I need to get them right so that I can correct the others. But seriously, is there anything you want to talk about? You've been so quiet."

"I don't know, 'Bee. I've just been…thinking. About…stuff."

"That was specific."

"I see you've been working on sarcasm, too. Do the others need help with that, also?" Sam asked wryly.

"No, but it annoys Ironhide." Laughing, Bumblebee asked, "Now, what are you thinking about? You know you can talk to me about anything."

"That's just the problem 'Bee." Sam shifted in his seat again. White board fences were flying by outside the Camaro as they passed by large racing stables. "I don't really feel like I _have_ anything to talk about. I guess I should feel sad about my brother, but honestly, I don't really. He's just some…abstract concept. I'm a little sad, I guess, but mostly because he made Mom and Dad sad."

Bumblebee answered with a soft buzzing hum, a noise that originated in the back part of his chassis that Sam associated with the Autobot considering his answer before vocalizing it. "Is that the real reason we're going up to San Luis Obispo?" asked Bumblebee. "Are you trying to make Archie less abstract?"

"No. Yes – well, maybe." Sam stammered. Usually Bumblebee wasn't so direct in his questioning. "I don't really know why I'm doing this. I just felt like…it needs to be done." There was silence in the car for a minute, as they reached the outskirts of Los Olivos and Bumblebee began to slow down.

"Sit up and buckle up," Bumblebee said sharply. "There's a police officer behind that billboard." Sam immediately straightened and fastened his lap belt. Although the government had provided all of the Autobots with license plates, registration, and insurance papers that they claimed had been 'made legitimate', none of the Autobots wanted to be the first to find out if they really stood up to scrutiny. As Bumblebee cruised by the sign, Sam glanced over, his stomach tightening as the cop tracked them with a radar gun. He breathed a sigh of relief when the officer turned away from them and towards the next car coming up the road.

Bumblebee signaled right and exited the freeway smoothly. "Where would you like to stop, Sam?" Sam examined the logos on the signs that lined the off-ramp.

"Hmmm, I could go for some Jack-in-the-Box." ventured Sam.

"Absolutely not," answered Bumblebee in an overly cheerful tone. _Man, he_ is _getting good at sarcasm_. Sam thought. "There's an organic deli a half mile up the road, you can eat there." Sam groaned.

"I hate that rabbit food, 'Bee. You're getting worse than mom."

"It can't be that bad. Yelp dot com gives it five stars!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, don't believe everything you read on the internet." Sam sighed as Bumblebee drove him resolutely down the street and stopped in front of a small storefront. The artificially weathered sign featured a sun peeking over green hills, and advertised "organic ingredients, grown locally". The driver's side door clicked open.

"I can't force you to eat healthy, but I won't be complicit in poisoning you. If you really want fast food you can walk."

Sam sighed. "_Fine,_ I'll see what they have." Sam stalked away from the Camaro, muttering about overprotective, patronizing robots the whole way. For all his griping, the food was actually decent, and Sam ate quickly, sitting at one of the small picnic benches outside. For some reason, Bumblebee and the other Autobots had expressed discomfort at the idea of humans consuming food while inside of them. Most of the others assumed it was because they didn't want to get crumbs stuck in their interiors, but 'Bee had told Sam that wasn't the case. However, when Sam had pushed for further explanation, Bumblebee had uncharacteristically clammed up. Sam didn't give it too much thought – after all, if the large robots could accept the weirdness of American culture, he could accept theirs, even if some of it made no sense to him.

Finishing up his lunch, Sam stepped out into the California sun and stretched before walking along the strip mall front to a florist shop. After a few minutes inside, he returned with a large bunch of brightly colored Gerbera daisies. The door popped open again as he reached the Camaro. Sam looked around furtively, to see if anyone had noticed. All of the Autobots had a habit of opening doors for their human passengers, and they weren't all that careful about where they did it. _Maybe someone should have a talk with them about it_.

"You ready?" Bumblebee asked after Sam was settled.

"Yup. All fueled up." Sam replied.

"That's not quite what I meant," said 'Bee as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the freeway. "What I meant was, are you ready for when we get to San Luis?"

Sam glanced at the daisies on the seat beside him. "Yeah. I'm ready." After a few minutes Bumblebee revved his engine twice. After spending so much time with the Autobots, Sam had picked up that it was their way of imitating a human throat clearing. "What's up, Bee?"

"Sam, I want to apologize for making a scene back there. It's your body and your choice to put whatever you want into it. I should not have made such a big deal about it." Sam had a hard time reading Bumblebee's tone – it sounded apologetic but also somewhat begrudging.

"That's OK, 'Bee." Sam decided to accept it at face value. "I know you just want to make sure I'm, ah, properly maintained. But seriously, I know how to take care of myself. You worry too much." Sam gave the steering wheel a reassuring pat.

"I know you think that we Autobots are overprotective towards you humans, but please-" Now Bumblebee's voice took on a more serious tone. Sam sat up – he had never heard 'Bee sounding so earnest and _melancholy_, "_please _take care of yourself. Your lives are so short, and I can't stand it when I see you doing things that will make them shorter. If I'm not off lined in battle, I will outlive you by eons. Every nanosecond I have to spend with you is precious to me – don't take any of them away from me."

Sam sat stunned by Bumblebee's little speech. Truth be told, he had never really considered the implications of an inconceivably long lived race forging friendships with relatively short-lived humans. He realized that by forming close friendships with their human allies, the Autobots were knowingly accepting that they would be grieving their human friend's death in their near-future.

"'Bee-" Sam's voice broke as a lump of emotion rose in his throat. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about what – what it must be like for you." He slipped his hand into a deep seam on the upholstery of the seat and rubbed along it slowly. Sam had previously discovered that Bumblebee found such an action soothing, and he was rewarded with a soft trill. There was still a note of sorrow in the tone, however.

"I know that humans find many things enjoyable that are likely to shorten your lives, and I'm not asking for you to give up what makes you happy, Sam. Just please stay healthy and strong for me." Bumblebee's radio then crackled and Jeff Buckley blared out:

_'That's just a little too much to ask of anyone/All that I ask, is for your loving ways/And I'll keep you happy for the rest of your natural born days'_

That got a laugh out of Sam. "You big sap," he teased. "I know you guys try to put up a big, tough front for us puny humans, but you're mushier than we are."

"Curses, you've seen through our clever facade!" Bumblebee laughed.

"Yup. And I wouldn't change a thing," Sam added softly.

"Neither would I Sam."

They traveled in a much more comfortable silence for awhile, until they reached the outskirts of San Luis Obispo. Bumblebee turned uphill into a wide driveway, flanked by a pair of wrought iron gates. On either side, manicured lawns stretched out over the hillside. To the left was a wide duck pond with a statue of the Virgin Mary in the center. The Camaro followed the meandering road through the park-like estate, until they reached a small chapel. A subdued sign outside proclaimed the building to be the administrative offices of 'Mater Dolorosa Memorial Gardens.' Bumblebee pulled into a spot next to a long, black Cadillac and turned off his engine.

"Well, here we are Sam. Remember your cell phone, if you need to talk while you're out there. I'm always willing to listen." The door popped open.

"Yeah..." Sam's voice drifted off. Why was he doing this? Was it because he felt like he should feel sad, or because he actually felt sad? Sam sighed. Emotions were crummy and confusing sometimes. He tended to be very happy go lucky, and all this introspection was making him uneasy.

Grabbing the daisies, Sam swung his legs out and stood up, stretching. "I'll be back soon, 'Bee."  
"Take as long as you need." Giving Bumblebee a final pat, Sam made his way up the flagstone path to the building. Inside it was sparsely furnished, and a Formica counter took up one wall. Sam could see a doorway behind it, leading to an office. As the door swung shut, a soft chime rang, and a bent, white-haired man stuck his head out of the office doorway.

"Good afternoon, how can I help you?"

"I'm Sam Witwicky, I called yesterday? About-"

"Oh, yes, I remember. I've got a map for you. I also got a spade out of the groundskeeper's shed. That area doesn't get many visitors, so the plaques get buried. But you should be able to find the site easily." The man bent down and brought out a piece of white paper. He oriented it for Sam, and pointed out the area. A plot next to a tree symbol was highlighted. "I checked our records, and the plot is right at the foot of the large oak, on the west side. The plaques are laid out in a regular grid."

"Thank you for finding the site for me." Sam took the map and spade, and exited the building, setting off towards the indicated plot. The paved path wound around the cemetery grounds- Sam didn't know what he had expected, but most of his experience with graveyards was in the movies, in which they were invariably dreary and spooky. Instead, he found the grounds almost park like - large statues decorated the mausoleums, which were scattered randomly among the more modest headstones. On many of the graves there were tokens left by visitors - flowers, balloons, stuffed animals. For a split second it all seemed pointless to Sam. Taken from the point of view that humanity was nothing more than short-lived creatures on a small ball of dirt hurtling through space in a backwater sector of the galaxy, while far more advanced races were probably heading towards them right now intent on wiping them off the face of the earth, the simple rituals surrounding death and mourning struck him as wasteful and silly. Looking out on the seemingly endless rows of head stones, and the bulks of the marble mausoleums in the distance, he thought about how all of the people buried here had someone who was willing to sacrifice those resources to send them off to whatever awaited on the other side in style.

Sam knew that he was being uncharitable again, but he couldn't help but feel cynical about the whole thing. 'Then why am I here? Why am I doing this if it's so pointless?' he asked himself again.

Finally, he arrived at the children's graveyard. Here the markers were much smaller, the rows closer together. As Sam left the path and made his way through the graves, he read the names. Most only had two dates and one year. Some only had one date, and a name, with no other information. He wondered if they had been stillborn or died shortly after birth, like his brother. There were fewer flowers and mementos here than in the rest of the cemetery.

Eventually the headstones gave way to plaques placed on the ground. Sam could see a large tree in the distance, and reasoned that it must be the oak the man in the office had talked about. The closer he came to the tree, the more he had to work to avoid tripping over plaques. Some were mostly buried; others had only a corner sticking out of the soft sod. There were no flowers here.

When he reached the oak, he oriented himself, and went around to the west side. There was no marker.

Well, the man had said it might be buried. Locating the other markers nearest to him, Sam figured out about where it should be and started kicking the leaves on the ground aside. He was just about to give up when he noticed the dull gleam of bronze in the dirt. He dropped to his knees and rubbed at it, revealing a beveled corner. Carefully, he set the flowers and map down and began to work at the sod.

Eventually the entire plaque was revealed. Sam cleaned as much dirt off of it as possible. The words were hard to read at first - the plaque was covered with patina and the lettering was scuffed and worn.

Archibald Charles Witwicky  
February 17 - February 25 1990  
"Let the little children come to me." Matt. 19:14

Sam sat back on his knees and stared at the plaque. Daytime TV hosts always talked about closure, and he supposed he should be feeling something like that, but how could he feel closure when he didn't think he felt sad? All he felt was...emptiness. Blank. By chance he had lived while his brother had died. A roll of the cosmic dice was all that separated him from the being the one under the ground. Sam gazed around at the other tiny markers. But really, wasn't it like that for everyone? Chance was all that separated the living from the dead, in the end. The chance that someone else would be in the crosswalk when a driver ran a red light, someone else's plane would crash, that an earthquake would cause a neighbor's house to fall, and not yours.

And then there was the chance that your ancestor would find an alien frozen in ice; that an alien robot McGuffin would fall on your planet instead of someone else's. The chance that your father was born first and inherited said ancestor's eyewear.

Suddenly all of the ritual surrounding death didn't seem so ridiculous to Sam. No matter what people said, they really weren't making the fuss for the departed, they were making the fuss for themselves. Maybe as an apology for not being the one to die, or to reassure themselves that they would be remembered after they were gone. Sam wondered how many people really remembered this out of the way graveyard, with its ill-kempt memorials and no flowers. He supposed people buried their children here out of guilt for trying to forget they had existed. He knew his mother and father had tried to forget about Archie. But it wasn't possible.

In a way, that was encouraging. Even with people actively trying to put him out of their minds, a human who hadn't even been on earth for two weeks was not forgotten. He wondered how many more little plaques were covered by sod, how many more families were trying to forget someone who didn't quite make it. Sam thought again about the Autobots, and their long lives. Would Bumblebee eventually find another friend to take Sam's place when Sam was gone? Would he visit Sam's grave or did the Autobots have a different way of mourning? Sam hadn't observed anything that looked like a rite or ritual for Jazz, although Optimus had forbidden his lieutenant's remains from being dumped in the ocean along with the Decepticons.

After all the deep thought for the last few minutes, Sam realized that he was pretty much out of mental energy to wrestle with more questions. It was frustrating, he had discovered. He had thought that as he got older, he would be able to answer all the philosophical questions that occurred to him, but he was realizing that thinking on them only gave rise to more questions.

And his feet were falling asleep.

Groaning at the popping of his joints as he stood up, Sam stretched again. He then leaned down and laid the bouquet on the uncovered plaque. "Don't worry, little bro. I won't come around much, but I won't forget you." Sam felt a bit silly at talking to the grave, but it seemed necessary.

Sam stuck the map in his back pocket, and made his way back to the path. He took a deep breath. It really was very peaceful here, with the small copses and ponds. Sam could almost relax and forget the looming danger to his world.

He returned the spade to the counter inside the office, and slipped out. Bumblebee looked overly bright and cheerful with his sunny paint job next to the somber hearses and subdued fleet vehicles owned by the cemetery.

The driver's side door popped open as Sam approached, and then closed again when Sam was all the way inside.

"Well?" asked Bumblebee after a few moments of silence. "Did you do what you needed to do?"  
"I don't know." Sam sighed. "I don't really feel that bad, but then I felt bad about not feeling bad, and so I thought I should come here and see him. But I don't feel any different, and looking at all of the graves made me think too much."

"What were you thinking about?" asked Bumblebee gently as he backed out of the parking space.  
"I don't even know that, either." Sam gave a harsh laugh. "Just...about life. And how big a deal we humans make about death, and why. But the more I thought about it, the more questions I had and the more I didn't make any sense. I thought that as I got older, I would understand more things, but instead..." he trailed off.

"Sam, I've been alive longer than your species has been around. And every time I come online I have more questions than I did when I went into recharge. It's the natural state of a sapient, reflective life form. The universe is a big place, with big mysteries. No one race has all of the answers. That's why I'm so glad chance brought our two races together - we're both at the mercy of a big universe, but at least we can care for each other."

"I guess that's why I came here," Sam answered. "To show that I care, or would have cared, at least."

"In the end, that's all any of us can do," Bumblebee said as he sped up the southbound 101 onramp and headed for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song Credit:** "All That I Ask" - Jeff Buckley

**Author's Note:**

> Song credits:  
> _Secrets_ by Good Charlotte  
> _Easy to Arrange_ by the Kingston Trio


End file.
